Gringo Joe

by JD Davis

  “And?”

  “Yes, sir, I just received the email from the monsignor en route to this location. It was encoded, sir, and Father Dominic said he would send the encryption key to a different email address.”

  At that moment, Gabby’s phone buzzed, indicating an incoming email. She looked at Joe, who slightly raised his eyebrows, and she checked the message.

  “Excuse me, Director,” said Gabby. “It appears that I have received the inscription key.”

  “And you knew all about this, Ms. Mendez?”

  Gabby didn’t even hesitate. “Of course, sir, I am the lead on this mission. We were hoping to have everything resolved prior to this meeting.”

  “And you provided the priest with your contact information?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And you provided Sergeant Chandler’s as well?”

  “No, sir. I believe the monsignor asked Joe for that directly. He and Joe got along very well talking about … things, sir.”

  “What kind of things?”

  “That is correct, sir,” interrupted Joe. “We shared a common appreciation for Saint Thomas Aquinas and Saint Francis of Assisi, sir. It seemed appropriate at the time, and it appeared to break the ice. The monsignor asked if he could contact me again and refer a book, so I passed along an email, sir.”

  “A secure one I hope?”

  “Yes, of course, sir.”

  Just as it appeared he might have a few more burrs up his butt, a man appeared in the screen whispering something in Director Valenzuela’s ear.

  “Very well,” he said. “I have a call from the FBI in Tucson. I want a full report emailed through secure channels by 10:00 AM, is that understood?”

  “Absolutely, Director,” replied Gabby.

  When the monitor cleared, Joe and Gabby looked at Piper, who indicated that the channel was indeed terminated.

  “Holy guacamole, what just happened?”

  “Yeah,” said Gabby, staring at Joe. “What did just happen? I mean, besides covering my butt.”

  Joe explained that when he received the email from Father Dominic, he decided to wait and see if anything came of it. He told Gabby that he was aware that she was in charge, but he didn’t want to make something out of nothing.

  “It surprised me when I got the email. It seemed more personal at first than something mission-oriented. He asked about my education and if I had formal Bible training. I don’t know, Gabby; after your tirade on the plane, I mean, well, you know, I wasn’t exactly comfortable explaining myself. Then I got another email after we landed and never got the chance to fill you in. Like I said, I figured I would wait and see if anything came of it.”

  Gabby exhaled slowly as Piper nervously stared at her. “Okay, I get it. It makes total sense and I’m grateful that you jumped in when you did. However, I could have handled the director. It wouldn’t have been the first time he came undone at my expense.”

  “You’re right, Gabby, maybe I should have stayed out of it but I assumed we were a team and it seemed like the thing to do.”

  Gabby stared at him, thinking of the entire mess from the plane.

  “All right, I need to clear the air right now. It wasn’t you, Joe, and it certainly wasn’t your interaction with the monsignor. In fact, I was impressed and thought your response was very appropriate. I was completely out of line yelling at you. And, you’re right, we are a team and I had no business taking my frustration out on you. Please accept my apology.”

  “No apology necessary, Gabby, I totally understand and wouldn’t have handled it near as well as you did.”

  “Me? You’re the one who handled the director this morning. That was some fast-talking, Joe, and I really appreciate it.”

  “Hey, guys, all this mushy stuff makes me hungry. I think you make a lovely couple and should either smooch or fight while I go down to the cafe for food—what’s everybody want?”

  Piper saw the look in Gabby’s eye and saw her clinch her fist and smile.

  “On second thought, I’ll just bring back a little of everything. I’ll see you two in about an hour.”

  When the door slammed behind Piper, Joe laughed out loud. “I really think that decorated fly boy is scared of you.”

  “He better be,” laughed Gabby. “But he does grow on you. I mean, in a junior high school sort of way.”

  They went to work on encrypting the email from Father Dominic and, as it turned out, it was a forwarded message from Señor Espinoza:

  “My sources tell me that the cockroach named Tino Alvarez has betrayed me, and is associated with a longtime rival of mine, a man named Javier Rivera. My sources also tell me these men have been using my money and doing terrible things that would be laid at my door. This man lives in Tijuana, and has grown marijuana for twenty years. He is very rich and very dangerous. Tell the Americans that Rivera now works for an extremely dangerous man who is also a gringo, a very powerful gringo. I believe this man is responsible for the girls. He blamed me so that the gringos would kill me. Tell them we must talk soon. Tell them I will give them a name that will change everything. And to you, my dear priest, pray for my soul. My time is near. —Juan”

  “So what do you think, Gabby, do you buy it? Is it possible that this is all a ruse involving his brother-in-law, so Señor Espinoza can peacefully retire with his millions?”

  “Wow, Joe, I think about that all the time, but I didn’t expect to hear it from you. I certainly think he’s capable of trying to pull something like that off. Imagine, he has us sent home and then receives a get-out-of-jail-free card from the US Attorney General. I’m afraid my attitude is extremely tainted, but we better get this to Langley ASAP and let them make the determination. But for the record, I think we need to go talk with Señor Espinoza and get a name. I mean, just in case, right?”

  Gabby wrote the report and hit send just as Piper returned with food.

  “Hey, kids, was there any kissing while I was gone?”

  Gabby picked up a French fry and held it close to his face. “You know, Piper, at assassin school they taught us three different ways to kill a man with a French fry. Would you like to see one?”

  Piper nervously smiled, handed her some catsup, and leaned close to Joe, “She didn’t go to assassin school, right?”

  “Actually, Piper, I’m not sure,” whispered Joe, “but I’d keep my eye on that French fry.”

  After reading the report, Director Valenzuela sent a directive ordering Gabby’s team to stand down. They were ordered to not leave the hangar and await evaluation from the chain of command.

  “Pretty much well what I expected,” said Gabby.

  “We just undid about two years of planning and basically flushed several millions of dollars down the toilet. That is unless the new fish is bigger than the old one. Then we may need a bigger pole.”

  Piper glanced at Joe who tried his best to avoid eye contact.

  “So, how long do you suppose the powers that be will keep us in limbo?” asked Joe.

  “Well, if Señor Espinoza really is on his deathbed, then I figure not long. Right now, they are asking the attorney general’s office to grant immunity to a dying man in exchange for information.”

  At 11:00 AM they got their answer.

  “Pack you gear for a 0300 departure. Proceed to Zapopan Airport, ESE of Guadalajara, Mexico. You will receive your coordinates en route, and transportation will be provided by Monsignor Gonzalez. He will be the intermediary for your meeting with Juan Espinoza. Immunity approved upon verification of information. Prelims have been forwarded to the law firm of BC&M as advised. PTKIP is approved. I repeat—PTKIP is approved.”

  Gabby showed the email to her team.

  “It’s been awhile, Gabby,” said Piper. “But PTKIP—isn’t that permission to kill if provoked?”

  “Do you have a problem with that, Piper? Because if you do, you are welcome to stay with the plane.”

  “Negative,” responded Piper. “I just wasn’t figuring on a man
dying of cancer pulling a gun, that’s all.”

  “Good point,” said Joe. “It’s just in case this whole thing is some sort of a ruse, or we smell a rat. It’s nice to know the agency’s got our back and we can defend ourselves.”

  “PBP,” said Gabby. “Typical DC protocol.”

  Piper had a puzzled look; he was lipping P-B-P, unable to place the acronym.

  “Politics before people,” said Gabby. “And you can synchronize your watch by that one.”

  Joe and Gabby walked over to the restaurant, did their tourist impersonation, and hailed a taxi back to the hotel. Piper offered but they decided to save him the drive. Besides, he was picking them up at 2:30 AM. During the cab ride, Gabby looked over at Joe and smiled.

  “What?” he asked.

  “I’m really glad you’re here, Joe. I’ve done this a couple of times and the company wasn’t always … well, you know.”

  Actually he didn’t, and his mind was wandering, searching for context. Finally he decided it was a respect thing and thought it best to leave it at that. The cab pulled in front of the hotel, where several people were mingling in the lobby. They paid the driver, and when they stepped out Gabby grabbed his hand and whispered, “Don’t forget, we’re on our honeymoon.”

  Again, Joe’s mind took off like a wild pig running from a jaguar. To protect their cover as newlyweds, they had gotten only one room but had asked for two beds. While checking in, Gabby had looked at the clerk and whispered that her husband snored. The lady had smiled and assured Gabby she understood. She made a comment referencing her own husband to a diesel truck without a muffler. By 9:00 PM, it was Gabby who was snoring as Joe lay awake, staring at the ceiling. He was thinking about the email from Father Dominic. In the first one, the personal one, the priest has told Joe that he sensed God’s presence hovering over him, and that God would protect him while he was doing “His” work. “And,” Father Dominic concluded, “you are doing God’s work, my son.”

  Joe liked to wrap his mind around things, to kick them, flick them, and poke them with a stick until he was at peace with his actions. Because of the ever-changing matrix of this mission, there had been little peace. Joe wasn’t Catholic and even took issue with much of Catholicism, but there was sincere comfort in Father Dominic’s words, and Joe took great consolation in them and fell fast asleep.

  CHAPTER 19

  TINO

  After parking at the Federal Correction Center in Tucson, Special Agent Irwin and his partner walked into the room where Tino Alvarez was seated. Slowly, he looked at a file and started shaking his head.

  “Hmmm, well, that’s too bad. Okay, Mr. Alvarez, since you haven’t been very honest with us, our government has approved your extradition to Guatemala. Two military officers will be here on Friday to take you back for a hearing and whatever they do in Guatemala to extinguish vermin like you. Any question?”

  Tino Alvarez stared at the agent with a puzzled look on his face.

  “I no understand what you mean ‘extinguish bermin.’”

  “The word is ‘vermin,’ Señor Alvarez. It means insects, rodents, things that crawl around in the night, things that annoy you so you just reach down and….”

  At that, Agent Irwin raised a thick manila file and loudly slapped the table where Tino was sitting. Tino jumped.

  “And that’s how you extinguish vermin, amigo. Comprendo?”

  “I no want to go to Guatemala, señor.”

  “Well, you should have thought about all that before you lied to us and wasted our time.” Special Agent Irwin stood, grabbed his file, and headed to the door.

  “Un momento, por favor, señor. I am no sure what you want but I think maybe we make deal, okay?”

  “No, Tino, no more deals. I don’t want to listen to anymore crap from you and I’ve got a lot to do.”

  As they buzzed for the door to be opened, Tino Alvarez quietly whispered a name. He did so as though it scared him terribly.

  “I’m sorry, what was that?”

  “Javier Rivera.”

  The two agents turned around and grabbed a chair.

  “That’s a good start, Tino; a very good start, but that’s a name we already have, so you’re going to have to do better. Tell me a story, Tino, and if it does not check out, I’m going to send your ass to Guatemala, and when they’re done asking you questions, amigo, you’ll beg them to shoot you. Now, where do we begin?”

  CHAPTER 20

  THE NSA

  The United States Foreign Intelligence Surveillance Court, usually referred to as FISA, is a US federal court established and authorized under the Foreign Intelligence Surveillance Act of 1978. Its primary job is to oversee requests from federal law enforcement and intelligence agencies, primarily for surveillance warrants against foreign spies inside the United States. Such requests are made most often by the National Security Agency (NSA) and the Federal Bureau of Investigation (FBI).

  Since the murder of the sixteen young girls, the director of Latin American Affairs at Langley had asked for and received full cooperation from all necessary agencies for the apprehension of the perpetrators. Until recently, it had been a foregone conclusion the perpetrator was Juan Delmar Espinosa. Since Gabby and Joe’s meeting with the monsignor, the now infamous email from Juan Espinoza, and the recent testimony of Tino Alvarez, there had been several high-level meetings. What had come from one of those meetings was a warrant from the FISA Court to wiretap an American.

  The services of an Air Force Intelligence Analyst working at the NSA had been contracted to mine data, listen to conversations, and monitor emails of a man unfortunate enough to warrant such a thing. What he overheard redirected an entire investigation. The Air Force sergeant, like many of his peers, enjoyed playing video games to unwind from work. His favorites were RPGs or role-playing games, and his favorite RPG was League of Legends, also known as LOL. During an evening shift, he intercepted a call from his target to a semifamous hacker and Internet thug. It was a known fact this freakishly gifted hacker farmed out his talents to criminals. He was known only as Luther, and his name had surfaced in more than one investigation of drug cartels. The sergeant leaned forward in his government-issued office chair, and when a reference to Luther’s favorite RPG game was mentioned, the sergeant confirmed he was recording the conversation.

  “It’s exactly the same as LOL, dude—you take on the role of a fictional character and you travel around with a group of other characters looking for wealth and adventure. In these adventures, you meet various monsters, and defeating them gives you money and experience points, which allow you to level up, learn new abilities, and purchase powerful tools. You know, like attacking Mexico. You use your abilities and tools to get rid of a monster, or to unleash the hoards from Langley. Then your boss does nice things for you.”

  “We’ll get you your new toys, Luther, but we expect tremendous returns on our investments. This is only the beginning. Once we’re done with Mexico and they’re out of the market, we will own it and let our rich uncle pay for everything. You just keep me informed on our pal down south and the rest will fall into place.”

  “Listen, dude, I can tell you when the queen farts if you get me everything I asked for.”

  “It’ll be at your warehouse on Wednesday and the rest is up to you. Oh, and Luther, trust me on this—don’t double-cross this guy—he eats breakfast with the devil.”

  “No worries, dude, I got this and nobody will ever know a thing.”

  As ordered by Director Valenzuela, the target of the FISA warrant was an ex-government official who had worked for the Federal Drug Administration. His name was Lonnie Rudman, and Lonnie was an ambitious attorney. While at the FDA, he spent years trying to persuade the Federal Drug Enforcement Agency to reclassify marijuana from a class 1 to a class 2 drug. He was adamant the reclassification would clear the path to a more comprehensive policy reform that would liberate the medical community in its pursuit of research into marijuana. He and his cohorts came close, n
ot being the first to try and relax the rules governing marijuana. Their efforts had greased the skids, and public sentiment was indeed relaxing. Rudman knew it would only be a matter of time. Still, for the moment the battle with the DEA was lost. The process was too tedious and directly tied to too many other agencies.

  In order to affect change through the executive branch, a petition initiated from an outside party or from within the administration must be reviewed first by the Department of Health and Human Services by means of the Food and Drug Administration, and then by the attorney general who typically delegates the task to the Drug Enforcement Administration. If it weren’t so stupid, it would be comical. Washington DC had evolved to a culture where change was destined to die the slow death of red tape. However, a certain bright attorney named Lonnie Rudman figured out Congressional rescheduling of a drug would be a much simpler process. If they chose to do so, Congress could amend the Controlled Substances Act to move cannabis to a Schedule II drug or off the schedules entirely. It could all be accomplished, decided Rudman, without going through the same administrative process that has caused many sane and savvy men to lose their minds and skip-naked through the halls of Congress. Regardless, because it is Washington DC, all such proposals had died in committee. However, in 2015 a bill called the Compassionate Access, Research Expansion, and Respect States Act garnered more attention than previous efforts in Congress. While it still hadn’t happened, Rudman decided the congressional approach was, without question, the way forward.

  Certain men and women have a drive that comes from deep recesses where most will never dare to wander. Some exit the womb with an unexplainable fire, and for others it was trauma or experiential. Several years earlier, Lonnie Rudman had watched his mother endure the ill effects of chemotherapy. He felt helpless and begged the medical community for anything that would relieve his mom’s suffering. A doctor had told him new medical research in Europe was showing promising results from cannabis oils and the smoking or ingesting of marijuana. At the risk of losing his license to practice law, he bought some pot for his mother. The results weren’t as dramatic as hoped, but it did provide some relief. While the experience set Rudman on a path of good intentions, the spirit-lords of the drug world are heavy task masters.